Shot Glass of Egg Whites
by xXKanpekiXx
Summary: Kyle deals with a  physical and mental  burn.  Style  kind of   Onesided mostly, but ambiguous.


Insert generic disclaimer here.

The whole burnt finger+egg whites in a shot glass happened to me. It actually works. Egg whites are the only reason I was able to type this out. God, it's late/early. Haven't written anything in a while, at least, not for fun, so I tried it.

Left a lot of things unclear. Hope you can figure them out. If not, I apologize.

Enjoy!

* * *

If Kyle had somehow convinced himself that a long soak in the Internet would cool his temper, he was sorely mistaken.

His middle finger, which had sustained a nasty burn, was currently soaking in a glass of ice water. It was a temporary fix, seeing as how the relief dissipated every time he removed his finger from the cup. Searching for more permanent solutions, Kyle did what any intelligent person would do.

Google.

He jerked the aching appendage away after skimming the yahoo answers page concerning burn victim first aid. Fighting fire with ice wasn't the best decision.

According to the World Wide Web, egg whites would be So, he plodded down to the kitchen, which was rightfully deserted. It felt a little strange, cracking and separating eggs at midnight, but the redhead was desperate to mitigate the throbbing pain in his right hand. He grumbled, shooting bitter glances at the source of his current (physical) pain; the oven.

Just a few hours ago, he'd made the mistake of placing gossip above depth perception. Completely forgetting that his hand was inside a 375 degree oven, Kyle had been focused on the bomb Kenny had just dropped.

Not the literal cherry bombs the blonde boy brought over; Sheila Broflovski had personally seen to it that they were flushed down the toilet.

Unnecessary, seeing as the news Kenny delivered was more destructive than the miniscule explosive. Stan and Wendy were back together. Kyle took half a second to gape at the inevitable, but quickly returned his attention to the oven when a searing pain shot through his finger. Realizing he'd thoroughly misjudged the distance between the cookie pan and his hand, Kyle removed the snicker doodles from the rack and rushed over to the sink.

He ran his burnt middle finger under cool tap water as he pushed Kenny for more details about this (undeservedly) shocking revelation. They hashed out the ramifications of Stan's volatile love life for about half an hour while Kenny snarfed down his weight in sweets. The moocher departed, warning Kyle not to be disheartened. He even went so far as to promise another break up within the month.

However, the words didn't stop the redhead from sulking. All of those repressed frustrations erupted as violently as the pain in his hand.

Stan would go back to placing dates before mates, hoes before bros.

There would be no more snog-free lunches, because Wendy always insisted on sucking face, despite Kyle's fervent attempts to convince her that kissing was not a viable dietary supplement.

Stan would be whipped once more. It was irritating to say the least.

Not to mention the jealousy to come.

Fighting demons for the first two years of high school left Kyle with an unsettling conclusion and a damning secret. Just as he was preparing himself to tell Stan the truth, this happens. It wasn't as if Kyle expected Stan to accept his confession, but having a girlfriend ensured heartbreak. Kyle frowned as he trudged back up the stairs to his room, taking extra care to tread the steps quietly. He plopped down thickly on his spinny chair and resumed his Internet surfing.

First thing, he noticed an instant message popped up in his absence.

Speak of the devil, the freshly taken devil.

**GuitarZer0:** Sup dude? Y u on so late?

**RockerJew:** Pain. Burned my finger, now sitting alone, in the dark, with my best finger in a shot glass full of egg whites.

**GuitarZer0:** Wtf? Your flipping off finger? Egg whites?

**RockerJew:** Good for burns.

**GuitarZer0:** Oh. Well, uh guess what. Wendy and I got back together.

**RockerJew:** So I've heard.

**GuitarZer0:** Kenny?

**RockerJew:** That kid can't keep a secret.

**GuitarZer0:** Damn.

**RockerJew:** Well, congrats. Hey, it really hurts to type so I'm gonna sign off. Night.

And with that, Kyle logged off. He wasn't lying, it hurt to type for more than one reason. He slumped back in his chair and sighed, wiggling his finger around to cool it off.

He tried removing it from the sticky whites. It felt fine for a moment, but the agony crept back, so Kyle let his finger dive back into the shot glass. After about 30 minutes of absentmindedly watching Youtube videos, Kyle heard a familiar rapping on his window, followed by a familiar voice.

"Dude, let me in!" Through the din, Stan could see Kyle make a face.

"Finger hurts. Can't open window." Stan pouted.

"I climbed an icy cold ladder for this? Come on!"

"My finger is covered in dead chicken. Not the best time for socializing."

"Yeah, but you sounded kinda down, so I thought I'd come over."

"Come back tomorrow at a decent time."

"It's freezing cold out here! You'd leave your super best friend out in the winter when he so desperately wants to talk to you?"

"Yes."

"Liar!" Stan shouted, teetering for a moment while he pointed his finger accusingly at Kyle. He regained his balance before prodding further. "Don't you want to share your pain with a jar of pickles?" Kyle frowned.

"Stan, it's really late and-what kind of pickles?"

"Kosher dill."

"Goddamn you." The dowdy redhead reluctantly unlatched his window and let the near-frostbitten boy into his room. He shivered and mumbled something about a pickle fetish. If he only knew… A few seconds dragged by as the best buds thought about conversation topics. Kyle settled on one.

"So, you and Wendy." Stan was taken aback.

"I thought we were gonna talk about your fried finger." Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"We both know that's not why you're here."

"I should have known better than to try and hide that from you. Yeah, well, the whole Wendy thing…I'm having doubts, man." Kyle perked up. "It's just…she's different now. Looks different, acts different, I don't know. This relationship isn't going to last. She seemed bored and Tolken's getting his new car next week. I'm just the warm-up act." Kyle put his hand on Stan's shoulder, not sure how to comfort his friend about being so obviously used.

"Maybe you should break it off then, if you're not sure." Stan shook his head.

"Nah, I'll ride this one out. But never again." He vowed. Kyle snorted.

"Sure, dude." Stan tried to ruffle his friend's hair but ended up getting tangled in the curly locks.

"I'm serious! I'm quitting this time."

"You sound like an alcoholic."

"I am. She's my Jack Daniels."

"Jackie."

"Right, Jackie Daniels. I need to detox." Kyle shot him another skeptical look. "Just one more hit and I'm clean for the rest of my life. You can be my rehab buddy." Kyle swatted at Stan playfully.

"Don't put me on your level! I'm no junkie."

"Fine, be my doctor then. Heal me, Kyle. Fix me!" He leaned in closer. The proximity made Kyle blush.

"Alright, but don't bitch to me about your withdrawl symptoms. And you have to help me out with my finger." He lifted said appendage from its eggy pool. Stan grabbed the outstretched hand and promised to kiss it better. Stan brushed his lips against the vaguely wet knuckle. Kyle put on a grossed-out face and pulled away.

"Body heat would make it worse, you know." Stan scratched the back of his head.

"Ah, yeah, sorry." He muttered. Kyle began to feel the effects of pulling his finger from its cool confines. However, a few moments after the pain returned, the ache turned dull and soon, left altogether. Stan could see the relief on his friends face and beamed. "I told you I could kiss it better!" Kyle threw a nearby pillow, overjoyed when it hit its target.

"So gay, dude." Stan straightened up and propositioned Kyle once more.

"So, you'll help me out with quitting Jackie, right?" He asked, staring deeper into Kyle's eyes than was necessary. The redhead groaned, not able to believe what he was about to do.

"Yes, but you have to prove your resolve."

"But I just cured your finger!"

"All you showed me was your genius-like medical prowess. Let's see some determination, Stanley." He used the proper name. Kyle meant business. He held out the shot glass filled with egg whites. "Take a shot to your clean break." Stan's grin faltered.

"Seriously?"

"Dead cereal."

The raven haired boy toyed with the idea for a few moments before grabbing the glass and lifting it high.

"To rehab. And Dr. Kyle. Down the hatch!"

Down went the egg whites.

Down went Wendy's hold on Stan.

Down went Kyle's competition.

His fear, however, remained.

But maybe he could work through those problems in rehab.

Maybe he was a junkie after all…

* * *

Finished! WOW It's been way too long. Enthusiasm waned about halfway through. Review if you like.


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